Ways Of Looking At A Blackbird (On Reading Wallace Stevens' Poem) Poem by Andrew Lee

Twenty grey pigeons, swallowing raw rice, half-staring at me?

Twelve long-necked swans, basking in the sun, ignoring me?

Eight barn owls eyeing me from a forested corner?

Six foxes and six brown squirrels quizzing me?

Five pink beluga whales half-smiling at me

from youtube videos while being chased by a Great White?

Two falcons casting their shadows over me?

Am I a half-whimpering, half-leaping bird caged somewhere

where an assembly of blackbirds has turned shrewd and colorless

in the form of a published poem

and speaks to Wallace Stevens and his intended readers

just one year before his death?

Or is this black-and-white poem muttering to itself

because its rhythm needs to find an owner?